But Where?
by CherriiMarina
Summary: LMHG. The urge is strong. She wants to. But where? Warning: MATURE, cutting, implied character death.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters. I never have, and I never will. The only thing I came up with was the plotline and I daresay that isn't terribly original either. So, no lawsuits please. I don't have anything worth taking anyway…

**Warnings:** Mature elements (rated M for a reason people!), discussion surrounding cutting, character death implied. Much angst.

The matte finish on the blade did not glimmer in the firelight. She rather thought it would. Instead, there was a soft metallic sheen mixed with the colors of the fire; red, yellow, orange.

She had never cut herself. She thought it might bring release from the tension in her life, but could never bring herself to actually cause the damage the blood would bring. There would be scarring, which she wouldn't mind, but the question remained; where to put the marks where they would be noticed the least?

Her arms were out of the question. They offered the most convenience, but would raise the most questions when hot-weather attire required short sleeves or when working over a hot cauldron prompted one to discard heavy outer robes to prevent one's sleeve from getting in the way.

There was her belly, but then she would be prevented from wearing bikinis swimming. And lest she forget the hot-weather attire that bared her midriff. No, the belly was not a viable option.

Legs? She thought about high on the inner thigh. If she got it high enough, shorts or skirts would not be a problem for hiding the scars, but what if she ever found someone to love? The thin white lines would be difficult to hide in an intimate situation.

Then again, there was hardly a place on her body where the proof of her ritual would be safe from that level of scrutiny.

She thought back to her reasons for sitting, running the dagger's unsharpened side over the soft flesh of her upper arms again and again. Harry was gone, taken with the monster he managed to fell at the last minute. Ron and Neville were in Saint Mungo's long-term spell damage ward from Death Eater hexes. The healers there still did not know if they would ever recover, but the chances were not good. Ginny was a broken shell after losing Harry and Ron, and she would barely respond to her friend's gestures. She still had enough presence of mind to care for her own basic functions, but it was all on the surface; it went no deeper.

The turncoat Snape had finally been apprehended by Aurors and summarily executed for the murder of countless innocent muggles, muggle-borns, and wizards. The largest charge against him had been the cold-blooded murder of Albus Dumbledore. She had held such hope that he had had a good reason for the last act; that he would turn out to be a good guy, but in the end, information from a fellow spy brought him down.

Her heart hitched at the thought of the other spy. No one would ever have expected _him_ to be a spy. He seemed like such the true villain, but she had known the truth. He had shown her that there was more to life than the stereotypes with which people were labeled.

_His pale hands stroked her dark hair, languishing in the soft glow of the large fireplace. They were settled comfortably in a plush couch facing the fire, lost to the world around them. Her hand reached up to clasp his free hand in a gentle tangle of fingers. Her head was resting against his chest near his shoulder, and he brought his head down to lean his cheek against the crown of her head, his long platinum tresses mixing with the shorter mass of brown curls that circled her head like a crackling halo. He tilted his head and placed a gentle kiss in the spot his cheek had just vacated, and he whispered, "I love you, Hermione. I wanted you to know for sure. I don't use those words lightly, but I mean them with every fiber of my being."_

_Her eyes gradually opened and she raised her soft mouth to meet his waiting lips. The gentle kiss slowly deepened to one of intense passion, full of tongues meeting with practiced ease, lovingly playing a game as old as time itself. Before either of them realized it, they had shifted positions and he was lying on top of her and their hands were eagerly roaming each other's bodies. His eyes flashed open and he sat up quickly, running his hands through his hair in frustration. _

_The sudden cold at his departure made her shiver involuntarily and she sat up, wrapping her arms around her torso. "What is it?" she gently implored. "Why did you stop?"_

"_Dammit, Hermione, I can't do this to you. I cannot take your innocence on a couch as though you're some cheap fuck for me to lay. You deserve so much more." He continued running his hands over his scalp._

"_But… I want you. I think you know I love you, too, but we've never said the words." She knelt on the soft carpet in front of him, taking his hands in hers and resting her forehead against his. "Please. I'm tired of holding back, Lucius. There is nothing to keep us from being happy now. It's all over; everything is over. I love you and you love me, or so you say. Why can't we do what it takes to be happy?"_

_His eyes lifted to meet hers, and he was hit with the realization that she was right. There were no barriers to prevent their happiness. None at all. A smile lit up his face. "I do love you. And you're right, absolutely right. Except that there is still one barrier left, and only you can tear it down." He reached his lips forward to grab hers in a short kiss. "Will you tear down the barrier, Hermione? Will you marry me?" He didn't have to wait long for his answer. She launched herself forward, leaning him against the back of the couch, and greedily attacked his face with numerous little kisses, punctuating each one with a softly repeated "yes." _

_Their lips met again, each hungry for the other. Her hands reached to his shoulders, sliding down his chest and over to unbutton his shirt. She made quick work of those and moved up to his collar to slide the soft silk down his arms. He released her long enough to allow the cloth to pass over his hands, then brought them up to cradle her face, their lips hardly parting through it all. She lightly scraped her nails down his back, eliciting a soft hiss from him. She broke their kiss for a moment to get up off the carpet to place a leg on each side of him, settling into his lap before rejoining their mouths with a curious haste. His hands left her face and slid down her sides to her waist, reaching for the hem of the red sweater she was wearing and pulling it up and over her head in a fluid movement. She whimpered quietly at the feel of his cool hands on the warm flesh of her back as he moved up her ribcage to deftly undo the clasp of her muggle bra. She broke out in goosebumps when he slid the scrap of lacy fabric down her arms and tossed it to one side. He left a trail of kisses across her cheek, down her neck, and finally reached his destination. She threw her head back and moaned as he enveloped one tight peak in the warm depths of his mouth, and she reached for his shoulders for stability, gripping them tightly against the onslaught of pleasure his mouth was evoking._

_He lifted his head from its work, and he had never seen a lovelier sight than the woman he loved, arching her back into him with the firelight shining through her hair. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and as he watched, her head tilted back forward, her eyes opening heavily to look at him. They shone with love and desire and he had never been happier to be the one to cause her pleasure. _

_Then it hit him again what was going on and he leaned his head forward to lean against her chest, gripping her in a tight hug, burying his face in the valley between her perfect breasts, relishing in the fact that her arms closed around the back of his neck and her head came down to rest on the top of his._

"_Hermione. We can't."_

"_Why not? I want it, you want it. It seems like the perfect time, Lucius. Why should we deny ourselves any longer?" Her voice implored from above._

"_I have never done one thing truly right, Hermione. I want our wedding night to be as special as it can possibly be, and that includes waiting for … this." He raised his head to look her in the eyes. "Can you please give me that? Can you hold on just a little while longer until we can do things properly? Please?"_

_His begging undid her, as did the love shining so brightly in his silvery eyes. "Of course we can wait if it's so important to you. I'd do anything when you look at me that way, love. But I don't want to wait too long, so we had better get to planning this. I want every inch of you," her eyes had a devilish glint, "as soon as possible."_

"_Gods, Hermione," he groaned, "You already own every inch of me. I belong to you, heart, body, and soul. And you're mine. Forever."_

"_Absolutely, Mr. Malfoy. I belong only to you, now and forever. Don't you forget that." She gave him a short kiss and then stood to find her sweater. After a few unfruitful minutes of searching, she was beginning to be horrified. "Lucius, how am I going to get home with no shirt?" _

_The look on her face was priceless and he started laughing loudly. "Here, sweet," passing his discarded shirt to her, "Wear this instead. We'll find yours eventually."_

_She shrugged into his shirt, loving how it was so big on her._

"_It looks better on you than it ever did on me, anyway." He leaned against the back of the couch, enjoying the view she presented in his silk shirt. His approving glances earned him a not-so-stern look from her as she finished buttoning it up._

"_You don't fool me, Lucius Malfoy. You just wanted an excuse to keep me out of my clothes, even if it means I'm in yours." _

"_You could be right, Hermione Granger-soon-to-be-Malfoy." She walked over to where he stood shirtless and wrapped her arms around him. "But you do look really beautiful running around with nothing on." She slapped his arm playfully and pretended to sulk and walk away, but he pulled her back against him and enclosed her in his embrace, her back against his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head, and her arms settled on top of his. _

_They stood there, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth that the other provided for a few moments before Hermione sighed sadly. "I need to get home. I don't want to leave, though." _

"_I know, but just think. Soon we won't ever have to leave each other again. No more partings at night, and I get to wake up with you next to me every morning for the rest of our lives." He nuzzled his cheek against her hair. "I love you, Hermione."_

"_And I love you, Lucius."_

She had left that night with her heart lighter and happier than it had ever been, but the next day, it all came crashing down around her. No matter what the courts had proven about his innocence, some people out there could not accept that he was not the big, bad Death Eater he had always portrayed. A group of vigilantes caught him off-guard as he was leaving Gringotts and stole him away from her forever.

She remembered going to work that morning just like always, floating on a cloud over the previous night's events. There was a rolled parchment on her desk with the Gringotts seal imprinted in the wax holding it closed when she got into her office. She broke the seal and read the short missive informing her that she had been officially made the heir of all contents of the Malfoy estate that morning and due to information obtained by Gringotts officials, she had inherited it all when Mr. Lucius Malfoy was murdered outside their establishment. The parchment had fallen from her fingers to the desk, thinking it had to be a joke. Lucius couldn't be dead. He couldn't be.

Just then, her superior officer walked into the room, a solemn look on his face, and she knew why he was there. She fell into her chair hard, a hand reaching to cover her mouth to try and stifle the sobs that bubbled from her throat.

She felt her heart breaking inside, and something inside her mind snapped at the same time. The funeral had been small. Surprisingly few people had shown up to mourn the loss of her soul's mate. Hermione had been perfectly composed. Her face had shown no emotion, and she had moved through the motions like a zombie.

A week later, she received another sealed parchment from Gringotts outlining the contents of the Malfoy vaults. She also received a letter from the Malfoy family legal counsel, informing her that as sole recipient of the Malfoy estate, she would be expected to come in to sign some paperwork before the week's end. She combined that trip with one to Gringotts to transfer the meager contents of her own vault to the larger one left to her by Lucius.

As she was leaving, she was approached by a small goblin bearing the same impassive scowl as the rest of his fellows. "Miss, this belongs to you," he said, holding out a small box. "Mr. Malfoy withdrew this item the day he died, and it was returned to us by his representatives. Since it was the last object he removed, we thought you might want it now rather than just putting it back in the vault."

She accepted the package and thanked the goblin for his thoughtful action before leaving for Malfoy Manor, her new home.

She set it aside and never opened it. That had been five years ago. She had barely left the house in that time, preferring to spend the majority of her time in the library.

Sitting in front of the fire with her knife now, she leaned back into the same place on the couch he had occupied their last night together. She had spent the better part of an hour reflecting on their last moments together, methodically smoothing the blade up and down the underside of her arm. She was wearing one of his shirts, as she frequently did on a knife night.

Maybe it was time to see what was so important for him to get out of the vault that day. She crossed the room to a large mahogany desk and pulled open a drawer on the right side. It was still filled with his papers, as she had never had the heart to throw any of his things away. The only addition had been the box from Gringotts, which she now pulled from the drawer, taking care not to disturb the rest of the drawer's contents.

She snapped the box open and fresh tears coursed down her face. It was about two inches tall, three inches wide, and four inches long. Inside, on a bed of darkest blue velvet, laid three rings; a simple gold band set by itself, and two rings sitting together. The two were obviously a woman's set of engagement and wedding rings. The engagement ring was magnificent with a two-carat white diamond flanked by two smaller diamonds on either side, and the wedding ring was another simple gold band, though thinner than its men's counterpart. She pulled the rings from the box and settled the set on the third finger of her left hand, just where he would have placed them if he had not been taken from her.

The tears flowed freely, repressed for so long behind a stoic façade that she had to keep up for everyone else. As she reached down to pull his ring from the box, she was wracked by backbreaking sobs. She placed the ring on the middle finger of her right hand and was pleased to note it fit as though it was made for her. She began to calm down a bit and made a decision. Keeping it all locked up inside wasn't good for her. So she made up her mind to take care of it the only way she knew how. It would work this time, she was sure of it. She could get past the bad parts and get the release she so badly needed.

Picking her knife back up from the surface of the desk, she made her way back to the couch and kicked her pants off on the floor. She sat down on the edge of the couch and grabbed the towel she always brought on knife night just in case she gained the courage to finally just do it. She placed the towel beneath her upper thigh and settled back into the plush comfort of his spot on the couch.

She drew a thin line across the inside of her thigh, hissing at how the blade stung as it sliced through her skin. A thin red line began forming, and in a minute had formed a rivulet that ran down her leg to the waiting towel. She set the blade beside her on the couch and watched her pain leave with the blood. Hermione's head leaned back against the back of the couch, her eyes closing.

She knew the damage done would be short-lived and was not life threatening, and so when the sweet oblivion of sleep began to take over, she surrendered to its crimson release, whispering a single word into the night's quiet, _"Lucius..."_

**A/N: **So, what did you think? Reviews are love. This was my first LM/HG story, so I hope I did okay. I know they're a lot OOC but it's the way my muse hit. :)


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